Forgiveness
by whYFeL
Summary: A continuation of a scene in book 28. The funeral and the admission.


Greetings to all readers,

This is my debut story in this site (I've been writing Cardcaptor Sakura fanfics for ), and I am, to be truthful, very, very nervous. Since neither English nor Japanese is my first language, I'm sure there are many mistakes in the story. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this humble piece of offering, and leave me constructive reviews so I can improve.

Disclaimer: I do not own RK. No copyright infringement intended. Mushiness abound, so be warned. I really wish I had a better title – and Aoshi-sama (sighs)…

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It was nearing the end of summer; already she could feel the subtle change in the direction of the wind and the colour of the leaves. She rather absently smoothed the front of her seldom-worn dark blue kimono, smiling slightly in recalling the astonished looks on the Onibawanshuu members when she had agreed, without much objection, to wearing it. He had said nothing – which was typical of him – but his eyes had seemed to convey that he understood why she had chosen to agree this time. She had merely thought it was fairly suitable for the occasion, though she knew Hanniya and the others certainly couldn't care less about her attire.

She followed quietly behind him, her plaited hair swinging slowly side to side, as he preceded the procession with his usual enigmatic stance, reassuming his rightful place as the Okashira (which she had eagerly relinquished with relief). Jiiya had not objected to it, nor had he objected to her place in the procession. She suspected he was immensely happy and relieved by the decision, and had also realized how important this was to her, for which she was grateful.

The ceremony was by necessity a small affair, with only the Kyoto branch of the Oniwabanshuu members attending, and a Shinto priest, but it was enough. Those who came all knew each other, and all the deceased, and they were like family anyway, so there was no need for grandeur and pretense.

By the time the holy man concluded the ceremony and finished praying for their souls, many women in the small gathering were in silent tears, and the men looked solemn. They all remembered their fallen comrades as faithful and serious, but kind men, and their deaths had come as a shock to them. But no one had condemned their fallen leader for the unfortunate deaths; the loyal men had sacrificed themselves to protect him. What he had done in seeking revenge was reprehensible, of course, but they were all veterans in war, and understood all too well how the need for recognition, justification and acknowledgement can twist even the kindest man. So they had not said anything against him reinstating his position as their Okashira once again, though it had taken them a while to forgive him.

One by one, each paid his or her private homage to the four ninjas whom they consider friends at the simple shrine, then quietly left the burial ground – a small well-kept park not far from the temple – lost in the remembrance of old memories and fresh sorrow. Only a handful of them remained: Jiiya, Okon and Omasu, Kuro and Shiro, and him… her Aoiya family.

Jiiya cleared his throat, his expression serious for once. "Well, we've done what we're supposed to do. Best leave them to rest now." His gruff voice, though touched with a tinge of sadness, was calm, and he rested a firm, callused hand on her head. "Let's go home, Misao."

She turned to look at her guardian with a small smile. "Can I stay a little longer? It's been a while since I last talk to them."

The old man sighed and nodded in acquiescence. "Don't be home too late," was all he said as he and the rest departed, leaving her alone.

She knelt down in front of the shrine, carefully rearranging the voluminous folds of her kimono. "Well, guys, what do you think?" she laughed self-consciously. "Your chibi Misao-chan actually agrees to wear a kimono. I remember Shikijoh – you don't mind me calling you by name, right? – always saying I'll look beautiful in one. So…?" she spread her arms apart with a wide grin. "Are you happy now, Shikijoh?"

Then her face turned wistful. "It's been so long since I played with all of you… I used to stay awake every night after you all left, despite Jiiya's scolding, just to wait for you guys to return and play with me again. Every day I practiced all those techniques Hanniya and Aoshi-sama taught me so I can be strong enough… so that when you all have to go away again, I can follow you anywhere and show everyone how good I am." She gripped both hands on her lap, a sigh escaping her lips. "But I guess I can't do that now, can I?"

Only silence greeted her question, but she had expected that. She pasted on a bright, brave smile and continued, reminiscing about the first time she had caught Beshimi hiding on top of the maple tree, or the time she nearly got burned by Hyottoko's fire because he did not realize she had jumped in front of him, or the way Shikijoh lifted her and spun her around every time she had wanted "to fly", or even the upset look on Hanniya's face whenever she hid his mask… A thousand memories, countless laughter, endless stories and dreams… and things that will no longer be. Her hands tightened painfully, turning her knuckles white in an effort to keep herself talking.

"I still remember the promise Hanniya made to me that last night… that you will always protect me, wherever he is…" Her sea-blue eyes shone with unshed tears, but she kept going. "And you did… all this time, you protected me. You also promised me that Aoshi-sama will come back, and he came back – battered and broken maybe, but he came back, just like you said… And you also told me I must grow up strong and beautiful and brave, for Aoshi-sama, so I can take care of him as well." Her body began to shook with each word as she unburdened herself in front of the shrine of the people she had loved. "Every night, before I go to sleep, I prayed for you, and Beshimi, and Shikijoh, and Hyottoko, and for otousan and okaasan, for Jiiya and the others, and especially for him… and I wonder, will I ever be as strong and beautiful and as brave as you had wanted me to be? Will I ever be good enough for him, to take care of him, like you told me to? Will he love this foolish, hot-headed girl like I always dreamt he would… or would he keep on locking himself away from love, from his family… from me?"

A sob escaped her then, and tears began to course unbidden on her smooth cheeks as she grieved for those who would not return. "I wish you were here, Hanniya… Kami, I wish all of you were here… I miss all of you… I'm so sorry I never got the chance to apologise for all the mean things I've said and done to you guys… and I'm sorry for not taking good care of Aoshi-sama… I still can't make him happy, despite everything I've done… I'm so sorry for not meeting your expectations… can you ever forgive me?"

Sadness overwhelmed her senses, and grief had made her jumbled words seemed meaningless and incomprehensible. So crushed she was in the weight of her sorrow, and so lost in her despair, that she neither heard nor saw the tall dark figure standing behind one of the trees not far from her; observing her, sensing her deep pain, acing for her and yearning to hold her in his arms and comfort her, as he had long ago. Unable to endure her tears any longer, he stepped out of his hiding place and slowly advanced towards the prone figure, hunching and trembling and so vulnerable he felt as if his heart would shatter into a million pieces. He hesitated briefly when he reached her side, then he knelt down and carefully enfolded her slender body in an awkward hug.

She stiffened and gasped when she felt two arms snaking around her, but they were warm, and the gesture was as familiar as her own shuddering breath. And the voice, softly calling her name… "Aoshi-sama?" she croaked out timidly.

"Aa…" his confirmation was her undoing; she promptly unleashed years of pent-up sadness and loneliness, of her secret wishes and fears, of her unworthiness and longing, to the man she had once adored and now loved with everything she possess. He did not pull away, as she had feared he would, but instead let her clutched at his Western jacket and cried herself hoarse as he continued to embrace the distraught young woman he had come to value more than life itself.

At long last, the last of her pain trickling away like a drying stream, she dared to raise her head as he eased his hold on her. "…What are you doing here, Aoshi-sama?" she whispered at his shirt, still shaken by her outburst.

"I told Okina I'd be waiting for you…" he said simply. Then hooking a hand under her chin, he tilted her slightly puffy face to look into the red-brimmed orbs. "Misao, I apologise as well… for making you unhappy… and for keeping you waiting." In his deep blue eyes, she could finally see a myriad of emotions going through his tortured soul, which manifested in a single tear dropping down his hardened face. She raised a finger to capture it, an expression of undisguised wonder etched on her features, replacing the weariness and relief her recent tears had brought. Before she could utter another word, he leaned down and placed his lips on hers in a brief but long-denied kiss.

Her eyes widened considerably, and she gingerly touched her lips when he pulled away, as if she could not comprehend what had just happened. Sensing her disbelief and uncertainty, he rose to his feet and with a gentle pull on her arm, she followed suit. "Daijoubo ka?" he asked worriedly, hardly believing his own boldness.

"H—hai," she replied shakily, but there was dawning hope on the still-childish face, much as a shining beacon in midst of the raging storm. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, he could see the beginning of a genuine smile gracing her lips. "Arigatou, Aoshi-sama."

Her smile, and the softly spoken words… only she alone could give him solace, the respite he had been craving for so long but often repressed by his private demons. This time he did not stop himself; the corners of his thin lips slowly curved upward, a mere slight movement, but enough for her to notice.

"Aoshi-sama! You're smiling!" she cried out excitedly with sparkling eyes, her sadness quickly forgotten.

It is amazing, really, how one simple thing – such as a smile – could immediately cheer her up; but this being her, maybe he shouldn't be so surprised. His smile grew fractionally wider at her returning enthusiasm.

She clapped her hands with a delighted squeal, then did something quite unexpected – she hurled herself up and wrapped her arms around his neck, not caring in the least what would happen to her garment. "You finally smile! I've been waiting so long to see this, and now you're smiling!" she repeated.

"Ah, Misao…" He had automatically reached up and hugged her slim waist to support her from falling as he stood his ground, a game he used to play with a younger, more emotionally inclined little girl long ago. He was glad to have finally made her happy, but… "Please get down. We're in a temple, after all," he reminded, though in truth he did not really want to let her go. He reluctantly bent forward a little and released her.

She obediently obeyed, ducking her head and blushing madly as she realized how forward she had acted. "Err… gomen, Aoshi-sama," she stammered, frantically tugging at her crumpled kimono to smooth it as she searched for something to say.

He gently took her wrists away before she could do more damage to the silky fabric. "It's all right, Misao. Come, let's go home," he said gently, the small smile remaining. Then, bowing his head briefly to the shrine, he held out his right hand to her, and she took it without hesitation, her usual wide grin glowing almost as brightly as the summer sun as they stepped together away from the ground.

Just before they left, he could have sworn he saw the silhouette of the four ninjas just behind the shrine, standing proudly with smiles of approval on their faces – a sign of their forgiveness and blessing to their two most cared persons. He closed his eyes with a thankful prayer and went forward to a better future, with her by his side.


End file.
